Exclusive Engagement (Rock Arrangement, #4) (ARe ED)

by Ava Lore

  I gasped, my knees giving way, but Kent held me up, his arms almost inhumanly strong as he worked his way down my body. When his tongue abandoned my nipple I almost cried, but when he began to trace a long, hot path down the center of my stomach I couldn't help but curl my fingers in his hair, knowing what would come next.

  Kent took his sweet damn time getting to it, though. First his hands on my hips pushed me gently into the closet door as though anchoring me in place. Then he trailed his fingers over the waistband of my jeans, dipping beneath the denim, sampling the skin there as though I were a rare delicacy. Then he unbuttoned my jeans and peeled the fabric back, exposing my lower belly to his seeking mouth.

  All the blood in my body rushed to the spot between my legs where I needed him most. My hips rocked into his lips and I felt him smile against my belly.

  “Patience, Rebecca,” he said. “All good things to those who wait.”

  “He who hesitates is lost,” I managed to gasp out, and his laugh rumbled against my skin, the sound racing through me, burying itself deep in my core.

  “Touche.”

  Goddamn right, I thought, but then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and began to pull them down, slowly, sensuously, and I forgot about whatever passed for witty repartee in the heat of the moment.

  I squirmed as he worked my jeans down past my hips, over my thighs, sliding them over my knees to pool around the high cuffs of my boots. I lost him then, his beautiful hair slipping through my fingers like water, so I tried to brace myself against the door, my palms flattening against the cool wood. His hot, rough hands skated over my skin, sending sparks racing through me, up the insides of my legs to my clit. One hand unzipped my boots and slipped them off as he planted heated kisses up the smooth curve of my thigh, his hot breath pooling in the valley between my legs. I stepped out of my jeans, trembling, and then I stood before him in only my panties, my breathing shallow, my heart hammering out a driving beat.

  Kent leaned in and nudged my pussy, first with his nose, then with his lips, suckling me through the thin, soaked cotton, scraping his teeth over the tender flesh beneath. My hands found his hair again, twisting and turning in the silky locks, our breathing labored and mingling together in the quiet of the room, and when he finally slipped the crotch of my panties aside with his skilful tongue, I wanted to weep with relief. I gazed down at him through a haze of desire as he rubbed his stubbled cheek over the tender flesh of my thigh.

  “I love the way you taste, Rebecca,” he said, his voice rubbing over my exposed pussy lips. “I dream about it every night.” Then he lifted his eyes and met mine with a gaze so arresting I thought my heart would stop. A wicked smile sliced over his lips. “And now I'll get to taste it every morning.”

  I gasped, and then his mouth was on my pussy, suckling, tasting, flicking and dancing over the superheated flesh, slipping and sliding against my slick folds and the hard little nub of my clit. He seemed unable to get his fill of me, drunk with my taste, with my smell, and I was the same, addicted and strung out on his mouth and hands, on his body, on everything about him. On his restraint, on his abandon, on his strength and his sense of duty, on his anguished heart that he hid so well. My hips bucked against his mouth as he explored me, unleashing the full depth of his hunger into the hot space between my thighs. My core contracted as he laved me with lazy attention and I had to struggle to stay standing as slowly, sweetly, a delicious tightening began low in my belly.

  “Kent,” I breathed. “Kent, please...”

  He sucked my clit into his mouth and began to nibble on it with gentle teeth, and the tightening sped up. Then his tongue flickered out, scraping over my aching flesh, quick and sharp, and then I was coming against his lips, my pussy reaching for his tongue, needing to embrace him in my body, and as I came I cried out, my legs giving way.

  I fell gracelessly as waves of pleasure crashed into me, bowling me over, turning me upside down and inside out, but Kent caught me and lowered me into his lap, cradling me in one arm as his other hand found my pussy and kept stroking me, pushing me up higher and higher. I thrashed against him as his mouth found mine, the taste of my own core slathered over his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him fast as my body dissolved and reformed, over and over.

  When at last I was spent, Kent gently placed me on the floor, then helped me to my feet and led me through the suite and to the bed where we had spent our past few chaste nights. Well, no longer.

  Again his mouth found mine as he backed me into the mattress, and when I had no choice but to collapse onto it he followed, grinning wickedly as his tall body arched over mine, his long legs insinuating themselves between my thighs.

  God, he was tall. And big. And I wanted to feel him, all of him.

  Reaching out, I pulled his t-shirt off over his head, and he helped me, throwing it to the floor as my fingers fumbled at the button on his jeans. Frantically I shoved his jeans over his hips, delighted to find he was commando again, and as he crawled up over me, every inch of him dominating my supine form, I shuddered with desire. My hands found his cock and gave it a quick, hungry stroke, and he grunted as he bucked into my hand.

  Our mouths found each other again, and he laid his body over mine, the heat of him searing my skin and setting my insides on fire, contrasting with the coolness of the sheets beneath my back. I moaned into him as his hands roamed over me, dipping and teasing, stroking and pinching, until I was breathless and ready to fuck. I felt small next to him, pale beside his intensity, but I tried to match him anyway. That was what working for Kent had taught me—to try to match the challenges I faced. I didn't do so well sometimes, but at least I was trying now. At least I knew that trying was an option. And he was here to teach me more.

  I hooked my legs around his waist and felt the hot, rock-hard flesh of his cock nestling between my pussy lips, the soft head bent down into the sheets. Groaning, I pushed my hips up into him, begging him to take me. I ran my hands over his back, feeling the magnificent contours of his painted body. Smoothing my palms down into the little valley at the small of his back, just before the swell of his ass, I thought I could stay in that bed forever, just touching him. I wouldn't need to eat. I wouldn't need to sleep. Just these moments would sustain me...

  To my dismay, the moment ended all too soon when Kent pulled away, rearing back onto his knees. One hand dipped between my legs to play with my pussy—tender strokes with his rough fingers—while the other hand reached into the bedside table and pulled out a condom. He kept his eyes on mine, and I had the sudden feeling that he was trying to memorize me, too. I felt his gaze burn through me wherever it roamed, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

  His hand retreated from between my legs as he ripped open the gold foil packet and rolled the condom down over his cock, and when at last he settled himself over me I closed my eyes and clung to him. Angling my hips upwards, I felt the huge head of his cock press against my entrance, and I bit my lip.

  Slowly he lowered his weight down onto me, pressing me into the mattress, his cock entering my throbbing core with an achingly slow stroke that sent spasms of pleasure down my legs, ending in curled toes. I hiked my legs up over his waist and let my soles rest on his ass, and when he began to flex deep inside me I felt it through my whole body.

  His pace picked up almost immediately, and I strove to match him, my body stretching out to accommodate him, and I imagined I could feel every vein and ridge of his cock moving inside me, over my inner walls. A soft moan escaped from between my lips as his pace went faster and faster, my breasts smashed against his warm chest, his undulating belly flexing against mine, all that hardness against my softness. Overwhelmed, I clung to him for dear life as another orgasm began to tighten and build deep inside me.

  Before it could crest, however, he pulled out. “Turn over,” he murmured to me.

  Swallowing, I did so, and when he grabbed my hips and hiked them up I gasped, my upper body scraping across the sheet
s. When his cock pressed into my core from behind, I could hardly contain the groan of ecstasy. Pressing, pushing, he entered me, then pushed my hips back down into the bed until I was lying face down, his cock buried deep inside me.

  Oh, please, yes, I thought as he pulled out, pulling my body along with him, and when he picked up his pace again I bit into the mattress and tried not to scream.

  Faster and faster he went, carrying me away on a wave of delight, high and swift. My whole world vanished as I closed my eyes—all the pain, the humiliation, the bitter past—evaporating like a puddle in the middle of a forest raging with fire. Nothing was real except Kent. I felt as though I were blurring at the edges, bleeding into him, melting into the bed, reduced to nothing but nerves and flesh.

  His body plumbed mine, and my orgasm built again, a slow and steady rise. My clit was sandwiched between my thighs and each plunge of his cock hit just the right spots inside me to make me see stars behind my lids. The wet sounds of our coupling filled the room, and each grunt dragged up from deep in Kent's throat stoked the blaze inside me.

  My hands fisted in the sheets as I raced towards completion, his lean, strong body expending all his power within me, and when at last I couldn't stand it any longer, I mercifully came. The tiny world of the two of us exploded inside me, and I thrashed, unable to control myself, my cries ringing in my ears as Kent moaned my name over and over again.

  He kept going and the pleasure stretched out, until I thought I couldn't take it any more, that surely there was only so much delight the human body could take before it came apart at the seams, and then at last he yelled his release, my name on his lips as he came, harsh and swift, deep inside me.

  I realized that sweat slicked both our bodies when he collapsed on top of me, holding his full weight off only with his elbows. Our breath matched pace, and then, tenderly, he planted a kiss on my shoulder. A sweet kiss. A hello kiss.

  My heart twisted, wrung out like a rag, and then he reached down and eased himself out of me and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from turning around and tackling him again.

  Kent slipped off the bed and I heard him remove the condom and drop it in the trash can. My limbs were as limp as noodles, but I somehow managed to drag myself into a sitting position and crawl over to the pillows where I collapsed gratefully, watching as Kent crossed the floor, his blue-green eyes studying me, a soft expression on his face.

  Wordlessly he lay down beside me and pulled me to him, and I placed my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

  I woke up in the early hours of the morning, realizing that Kent was not with me in the bed. For a moment I had the horrible thought that it had all been a dream, but then I heard the toilet flush and I relaxed.

  Kent came back and slid between the covers, his arms slipping around me. He was so warm. I just wanted to curl up on him and purr like a cat. I wasn't going to, obviously, because that would be weird, but damn if it wasn't tempting.

  “Feeling better?” he asked me.

  I grinned into his shoulder. “I've been worse,” I told him.

  He laughed at that. “I bet you have.” Lazily, he lifted one hand and began to smooth his palm over my back. Warmth spread out over me where he touched me, and his naked body entwined with mine was pulling me ever more insistently out of sleep. I sighed and stretched, unfurling from the tips of my toes all the way up to the ends of my fingers high above my head. I felt the last vestiges of tension trickle away. Finally, thoroughly relaxed, I laid back and let Kent wrap himself around me.

  I stared up at the ceiling, light and dark in unfamiliar patterns. There was a cobweb up in the corner that someone had missed in the last maid service. I watched it rise and fall gently with the shifting air currents in the room.

  Then I frowned. “I'm feeling weird,” I said.

  “Weird?” He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at me. “What do you mean, weird? Like sick?”

  I shook my head. “Nooooo,” I said. “I just mean, I was lying here looking at the ceiling, and there's a spider web up there.” Now that I was saying it out loud it seemed kind of stupid, but I'd started so I plunged ahead. “And...I don't feel any need to clean it up.”

  I shut my mouth and pressed my lips together. God. Was I a weirdo or what? I risked a glance at Kent and he was staring at me as though I'd just suggested we put bananas in our ears.

  “And that's... bad?” he asked.

  “I didn't say bad, I said weird.” I wrinkled my nose. “It's not bothering me that it's there. It's weird.”

  He started to laugh.

  I shoved him. “Don't laugh at me!”

  He shook his head. “I can't help it,” he said, stifling his laughter into snorts. “Only you would think it was weird that you didn't want to clean something.”

  “But it is weird for me to not want to clean something!” I said. “I looked at it and I thought, 'oh, spiderweb,' not, 'I should get a duster.'” This was actually beginning to seriously stress me out. I'd always been a neat freak. Always. I frowned. “Did your cock heal me of my OCD?” I asked him, suspicious.

  “That would be a neat superpower,” he said, but then he sobered up and moved toward me. Gently he tipped me onto my back and pulled himself over me. One hand reached up and began to play with my hair, and I idly ran my hands over his tattooed biceps. “Rebecca,” he said, “have you ever asked yourself why you think you have to purge the world?”

  I scowled at him. “That makes me sound like Hitler.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I shrugged. I was getting distracted by his biceps. “Well, you know. It just makes things easier, especially when things are going crazy around me. I can control it. A place for everything, everything in its place, right?”

  Damn. He had really really nice biceps.

  “Well then don't you think that's why you don't feel the need to destroy that poor spider's nest?” he said, interrupting my musings on biceps.

  I frowned harder. “What do you mean?”

  He leaned down and trailed a soft kiss over my lips. “I mean, there's a place for you, and you're in your place.”

  I felt my brow smooth. “Whoah,” I said. “I'd never thought of it like that before.”

  “I hope it's not gone for good,” he said. “It makes it easy to tell if I'm fucking up.”

  “I'd rather we were just fucking,” I said.

  I saw him smile in the dimness. “Well,” he said. “I think I can manage that.” He leaned down and claimed my lips again, and as he folded his arms around me I knew he was right. A peace I'd never really known spread through me.

  Everything was finally exactly as it should be.

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  About the Author

  Ava Lore was raised by okapis and lives to corrupt the innocent. When she's not writing

  erotic romance, she spends her time thinking about writing erotic romance and drinking enough iced coffee to kill a musk ox.

  You can email Ava Lore at authoravalore@gmail.com, follow her on twitter (@authoravalore) or visit her at authoravalore.com. She yearns for your approval and always loves to hear from fans.

  Want more BBW? More Billionaires? More aliens? More menage? Something entirely different? Let her know!

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